Never Pick Up Hitch-Hikers
an excerpt

Out of more curiosity than anything—while constantly shouting at herself “curiosity killed the cat!”—Molly stopped her car in the middle of the road, thankful for the empty country roads. “Your car break down or something?” she asked of him.
He regarded her amusedly for a moment, then shook his head jerkily. “This is as far as my last ride would take me.”
Molly raised an eyebrow, “What? They just dumped you out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“Pretty much.”
She stared at him incredulously and he shrugged, “She was a grandma-type who eventually said she didn’t “like my look.””
She almost laughed; he looked perfectly normal and average. “Grandma’s can be overprotective.”
He chuckled, a low and rich sound that reverberated through his chest; Molly could nearly feel it. “That they can be.”
She grinned and took a breath as if to say something, but stopped. After all, if their places were reversed, wouldn’t she want a ride? He looked about as harmless as a leather coat. An expensive leather coat.
She shrugged and said, with all the confidence that was characteristic of her, “You need a ride?”
He nodded slightly. “It would be appreciated. I don’t think I can walk to that horizon; all these corn fields make it look like eternity.”
Molly laughed brightly. “You’re right. If you tried to walk that way, you’d go all the way to the Gulf without even knowing you’d left the state.”
He smiled appreciatively and repositioned the satchel on his shoulder that she hadn’t even noticed he was carrying.
“Well, come on,” she encouraged, unlocking the passenger-side door. “We’re wasting the gasoline.”
He nodded obediently and smoothly slid into the seat, hanging the messenger bag over the back of the seat and closing the door behind him.
She shifted back into gear and the car moved off, plus one passenger.